Chapter 3: Transplanting a Tender Sapling
I came to, some point later. I hurt all over, my head spun. I could hear voices but they were fuzzy sounding. I tried to open my eyes, but they protested. What little I could open them was regretted the moment light hit them. Quickly closing them I tried to focus on the voices I heard.
"She needs to go to the hospital." The voice, not unkind, but clearly angry and, well… old sounding sounded determined enough to believe. "She needs proper treatment."
"She isn't going to a hospital just to be shipped back to the loony bin so that psycho can break her out later and start this all over." A very familiar voice husked impatiently. "Do your job. Tell me what's wrong with her and what she needs and you can go back to your life, saving junkies!"
"I'm trying to, but I keep telling you, I don't have everything she needs." Old Woman continued on. "She obviously has a concussion. She needs a CT scan and an MRI to see if she's bleeding internally."
Whoever this poor bitch was, she seemed pretty banged up. I thought through my head ache. I remember thinking they should stop arguing so they could take her to the ER.
Husky Voice spoke up again, and the fuzziness in my ears cleared enough to recognize it as Red! "You have a lab right here! You can do all that right now." She still sounded angry, but I heard the waiver in her determination.
"We have an x-ray machine, and machines for blood work and to test infections." Old Woman countered. "I can already tell you with her bruising she has to have at least one cracked rib and no broken limbs. Her skull has no obvious dents or cracks, but I can't rule out hairline fractures." When Red didn't comment the other woman continued while I just listened to the laundry list of things wrong with this girl. What the hello kitty happened to this person? "I can see you care for her and think you are protecting her, but it does her no good if she dies from a bleed in her head, or abdomen. Help me to help her." The more Old Woman talked, the more I thought I might know her from somewhere.
Something didn't add up. As much as I loved Pammy she hated people. At best she thought some were useful. I'm the only person she ever seemed to like as much as her plants and the only one she ever tried to do anything for out of kindness. Clearly this woman must be an idiot if she thinks Red gave a petunia's ass about this girl. Unless, no it couldn't be? The only explanation that made sense, as my mind finished the slow cartwheel it was doing was that 'I' was the poor bitch they were talking about.
"No Hospital!" I yelled as my eyes snapped open from the adrenaline I suddenly felt. My hand went to shield my eyes from the light and gave me a protest of aching pain. "Owwwww!" I whined.
"Thank God! Harley, you're awake!" I heard Red say with obvious relief.
"Miss Quinzel." The woman spoke hurriedly, concern already replacing her frustration from her conversation at Red. "You need to take it easy."
Wherever they were before I don't know, but they were both by my side on opposite ends of the bed. I was squinting horribly to keep the light out of my eyes, so all I could make out were their shapes. "It's too bright… can you kill the lights a little Doc?"
A few steps and a few clicks later the light went down allot. "There… is that better?" I opened my eyes to see that half the lights were turned off to give enough light to see and turn the roar in my head to a pissed grumble. I quickly turned to see Red at my right like a guardian angel as she smiled down to me with full red lips. I frowned when I saw the worry in her green eyes though, feeling guilty.
The gears in the back of my mind started rattling off my symptoms: photophobia yes, pain yeppers, nausea check-o-rony, drowsiness? Yes, I was fighting to stay awake now that I relaxed a tiny bit seeing that Red was protecting me. Difficulty breathing with a sharp pain when my chest expanded to the most I could manage, along with tremendously painful while still structurally functional limbs.
I might be known to most as Harley Quinn in Gotham, but I still had all my education when I was still Doctor Harleen Quinzel. I couldn't find any fault in the Doc's call. Concussion, broken rib/s and possibly hair-lined arms, legs and/or skull all seemed dead on. The most logical and sensible thing to do was to go to the hospital for tests to determine the extent of any soft tissue damage and check for internal bleeding, which could potentially kill me in hours or, Hell, even minutes.
"C'mon Red Let's go." I said, and grabbed her hand I sat up painfully and slid off the bed and wobbled leaning onto Red for support. I was crazy not stupid. Despite the protests from Old Woman and the voice of 'reason' in my head I wasn't going to get busted by the cops while doctors squeezed a barium smoothie down my throat and up my ass. I looked around. We were in a clinic of some sort. It was closed and empty 'cept for the three of us. It looked like a clinic you gave blood at. Not much privacy all the beds were lined up in the open with cloth dividers on tracks. There was a wall with a space that looked like it led to an admissions area, and some doors in the back that led to the aforementioned labs and maybe some more private rooms for patients that needed a little more privacy than simply detoxing.
I cocked my head to the side and winced, then blinked in recognition. I knew this place. Memories of three summers volunteering here for service hours came to me. I turned to the Doc that Red took hostage to treat me and squinted my bruised eyes. "Um... Doctor Leslie Thompkins?"